Blood on Cupid's Arrow

Wounded Love

In the garden of tender hearts,

Cupid’s arrow strikes its mark,

Not with gentle, rosy glow,

But with a wound, deep and stark.

Blood on Cupid’s arrow gleams,

A symbol of our shattered dreams,

For love that once was pure and bright,

Now dances in the dimmest light.

With every beat, the pain does grow,

A scarlet river, love's sorrow flows,

Passion turned to bittersweet,

In the shadows where lovers meet.

Yet in this crimson tide, we find,

The broken pieces of our mind,

For even in the darkest hour,

Love retains its mystic power.

Through tears and blood, we learn to see,

The fragile strength of you and me,

In the garden of tender hearts,

Cupid’s wound becomes our art.

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Eternal Echoes

Upon the twilight’s whispered breath,

Lies a tale of love and death,

Cupid’s arrow, sharp and true,

Pierced not one heart, but two.

Blood on Cupid’s arrow stains,

A testament to love's sweet pains,

For in the union of our souls,

The wound of love takes its toll.

Beneath the moon’s cold, silver light,

We hold each other through the night,

Whispers of forgotten dreams,

Flow within the silent streams.

Our love, a ghostly, haunted dance,

Lost between fate and chance,

Yet through the tears, the endless fight,

We cling to shadows in the night.

For in this pain, a truth we see,

Love’s not just joy, but agony,

In every wound, a story lies,

Of hearts entwined through lows and highs.

Though blood may stain the path we tread,

In love's embrace, we are not dead,

Eternal echoes softly sing,

Of Cupid’s bloodstained offering.

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